Marauders? No, not again!
by CherriiMarina
Summary: Minerva McGonagall is going through the Student Registry for next year, and come across three names that cause her to seriously contemplate retirement. (Slash and Femmeslash ships included, with some Femmeslash content in the latter parts.)


**A/N:** I own nothing, save for my small collection of words and phrases. It all belongs to the creative goddess of our generation, which isn't me.

The second half of this contains Femmeslash, though the first half is fairly tame. If that squicks you, you may not want to read.

This is un-betaed, so any mistakes are my own. See one? Let me know!

=======================HG/MM=======================

_June 2016  
__Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

It was nearing ten, the shadows drawing in on the candlelit desk of Minerva McGonagall, the Headmistress of Hogwarts for the past eighteen years. She was going through the register, looking at the lists of new first-year students that would be coming in September. The numbers were growing every year with the post-war baby boom, and before long, they would need to open some of the long-empty dormitories and spare classrooms to make room for everyone.

She was happy to see the influx to the magical population. There were more Muggle-borns being brought in each year than before, and the existing Wizarding population was expanding as well as the survivors of the Voldemort years began to lose their fears of dead offspring and started bringing forth the families they had always wanted but feared having.

She sat back in her chair, removing her glasses and setting them on top of the book, rubbing at her tired eyes with the heel of her hands. The blurriness buffed away, her fingers found their way to massage her temples, which were just beginning to show hints of grey in her coal-black mane, pinned back in its customary bun.

At ninety-one years old, most Muggles would be celebrating beating back the spectre of death for so long, and readying themselves to finally greet the grim reaper who had come to take so many of their friends. For a Witch, however, ninety-one meant she still had plenty of good years left, though she was maybe not quite as spry and energetic as she once had been. In Wizarding years, she was the physical equivalent of a Muggle in their mid-fifties, and surviving three magical wars had probably aged her a bit more than the average, though she was still far from meeting the mythical being who had once cheated the Peverell brothers with his sneaky gifts.

She stretched her back and listened to the series of quiet snaps and pops which accompanied the movement. Thinking back on the previous weekend, she smiled, remembering the perverse pleasure she'd taken in reminding the younger generation just how old "Old McG" really was.

=======================HG/MM=======================

_The Burrow, Three days earlier_

"Oh, come on, McG can't possibly. I get she's a testy old bird, but there's no way!" George's assertion was met with an eerie silence. With all the children running around, wreaking havoc on the expanded and improved Burrow, there was always some sort of noise going on, but this statement was met with a silence so deep that the tension caused him to gulp loudly.

Harry and Ginny, sitting together and cuddling their precocious thirteen-month old daughter, Rachel, between them, gave him a look of utter incredulity, as did the lounging forms of Ron and Neville. Even their three-year old son, Frank, pulled his thumb from his mouth long enough to look up at his Uncle George and say, "Unca George, you dumb. Auntie Merva can do anything."

The congregated family all burst into raucous laughter at his defense of Minerva, and she leaned down herself from her position just behind George – and out of his immediate sight – to pick up the toddler and swing him around gaily. "Thank you, kind sir for that rousing defense of your Auntie. I can, indeed, do _nearly_ anything." She winked at the child before tossing him into the air, a whispered charm bringing him down slowly so that he floated as if in a soap bubble to land gently back on the grass between his fathers' legs, giggling all the while.

"Now I think I've missed something. What is it, Mr. Weasley, that I can't possibly do due to my old and infirm state?" Her eyes were twinkling merrily as she faced the visibly nervous form of the legendary prankster.

"Oh, it's nothing, McG. We were just discussing Quidditch," he paused at her rolled eyes – of course it was Quidditch, they talked of little else at these family gatherings, "and Harry was saying that if any of the professors at the school – other than Madam Hooch, of course – could pull off the Wronski Feint, it would be you. Now, I know you used to play a bit of Quidditch when you were in school, McG, and you were always our best supporter when we all played, but I just don't think you can do it."

"I thank Mr. Potter for his support, but it has been some time since I was on a broom, and I fear I must share your opinion at this time."

"See, Harry! I told you." George sounded extremely satisfied with himself, and Minerva allowed the rest of the conversation to fade into the background as she meandered around the large yard surrounding the Weasley homestead.

"You know," a familiar voice penetrated the fog she'd raised around her brain as she thought about the steep dive, "I happen to be very well acquainted with your physical capabilities."

Her lips tilted up in a wry smile. "Oh, are you now?"

"I am," the voice asserted, "and I think that if you truly wanted to show them up, you are more than capable of pulling that move off. Not that I'm recommending such a course of action, you understand. I'm just saying that if you _did_ want to, I have every faith that you could."

She placed a soft kiss to the corner of the mouth belonging to her faithful companion. "You really think I should let them in on our secret? None of them quite understand, even after all these years, why you're with such an aged specimen of the female variety when you could surely have someone your own age. If they only knew what good shape I'm in, you could well be in for some competition for my attention."

Soft lips moved in and puffed warm breath over her ear, knowing what the sensation did to her, and whispered into the firm swirl of skin and cartilage, "They'd be too scared of me to try anything." A tongue darted out to trace the outer rim of her ear before white teeth bit down on it in a gentle nip. She sucked in a quick breath, hissing at the contact.

"Stop that, or I'll take you home now and I won't let you out of our rooms for days. That'll show them just what 'Old McG' can do."

A bright smile met her eyes as they pulled apart. She was grasped by the shoulders, turned, and a hand firmly patted her bottom, pushing her back toward the congregated Quidditch fans.

"Go show them just why I'm with you. I promise to look at you adoringly as you pull off your best stunt in years."

She chuckled as she started walking back the way she had come. "You're going to be the death of me, you know, but at least I'll go happy, love." She got no answer to that one, but when she successfully completed the complicated and dangerous maneuver minutes later, she was met with hoots and howls, whistles and applause from everyone present, and after she landed, the huge grin at her success was kissed off her face in full view of the entire Weasley clan, which only made the cacophony swell even louder.

Finally breaking off the kiss, she'd been met by a sheepishly grinning George, whose only response was "You go, McG."

=======================HG/MM=======================

"You go, indeed," she snorted as she picked up her glasses, settling them back into place. She needed to finish getting through the Registry so she could make it up to bed sometime soon. Her bed's other occupant would be getting restless very quickly if she didn't make it on time.

Merlin, she was only to the 'O' section. There weren't very many incoming students with O-names, but she did smile briefly when her quill passed over Ollivander, Gareth. The old wand-maker had finally found love after the war, and was the proud father of three boys, all of which were just as quirky as their father – and indeed their mother as well. Nobody would have ever thought that someone as young as Ms. Lovegood would have been interested in old Ollivander, but the time they'd spent in Malfoy's basement had forged a connection that they'd been unable to refute when they'd met back up after Luna left Hogwarts. Gareth was their oldest, and was the one most likely to take over the shop when his father retired. The twins had followed two years later, and there had never been two twins so different. Lorcan was flighty and obsessed with make-believe creatures as his mother was, and Lysander was more studious, already showing an interest in his grandfather's hobby of writing and printing the Quibbler.

Despite their age difference – which was even a bit wider than the gap between Minerva and her lover – they were doing well, and the word on the grapevine was that Luna may be pregnant again, and was hoping to finally have a daughter this time.

Continuing on her quest through the Registry to locate any potentially problematic newcomers, Minerva's quill passed through a goodly portion of the 'P' section before reaching Potter, James, Potter, Remus, and Potter, Sirius.

Mercy, was it time for them to start already? Harry and Ginny's triplets were boisterous boys, and had inherited much in the way of their namesakes' personality quirks. They were the first to have used the pet name "Auntie Merva" when they were very young, and it had stuck around through the entire rest of the generation, much to Minerva's consternation. She disliked shortening her name, and was loathe to use pet names for anyone at all, although the few who did use "Auntie Merva" were often called her little lads and lasses in return.

Having dedicated much of her long life to the education of the last several generations of Wizarding Britain's youth, she sometimes wished she'd had the opportunity to have one or two of her own, but had been unable to find a suitable partner with whom to share her life until fairly recently, and the topic had never come up between them, Minerva feeling that she was a bit too old to be worrying about such things at this stage of her life.

These three, though, marked the beginning of a new era of "Marauders," and Minerva was unsure if she was up to the challenge of overseeing the educations of another generation. They would certainly end up testing the limits of her patience if Harry sent them to school with that thrice-cursed cloak and the map that the first generation of Marauders had built.

Her strained nerves aside, however, she had to admit to herself that the years between James, Remus, Sirius, Peter, Lily, and Severus and all the things they had gotten up to and the appearance, eleven years later, of the Weasley Twins and Lee Jordan had been exceedingly boring, especially the seven years following Voldemort's initial defeat.

She did already have Teddy Lupin as a student in the castle, but with only Bill's oldest daughter there with him, he wasn't much trouble, having inherited his father's serious and studious nature, tempered only slightly by the klutzy and joking traits of his mother. He would be entering his sixth year in the Fall, which might put him just out of the reach of the triplets and their propensity for trouble. Maybe. Hopefully.

_Please, Merlin, don't let the Potter boys corrupt Mr. Lupin._

It had been a fairly quiet set of years since the Battle of Hogwarts and that final year when many of those who should have had their seventh year of education over the course of 1997-1998 came back to complete their education in a satisfactory manner, away from the stresses of Death Eaters for teachers and the growing war with Tom.

Seventeen years had passed since Harry had finally left Hogwarts, along with Ginny and Hermione and Neville. Ron had not chosen to return, using his growing confidence and Quidditch skills along with his reputation as one third of the Golden Trio to gain a third-string position with the Appleby Arrows. His career had been on the rise, when he'd been caught out on a date with one of the players from the Wimbourne Wasps, who are the Arrows' fiercest rival. Coupled with the fact that the player in question had also been male, it signaled the end of both of their Quidditch careers.

Surprisingly, he had gone back and used home-schooling materials to then earn NEWTs in both Herbology and Potions, following it up with a Mastery in Potions. He'd worked closely over the years with Neville, who was in training to take over the Herbology post when Sprout retired, and they'd finally gotten together six years earlier. Neville was now in full control of the Herbology position, and Ron used his Potions Mastery to run a private lab, selling quality potions to the school and St. Mungo's, as well as to select Apothecaries in a ready-to-take line that was doing well.

Through the clever use of potions, charms, and transfiguration – the latter two helped along by Hermione – they had finally found a way to conceive a child of their mutual genetic inheritance, and were happy being parents, though Minerva would not see little Frank as a student for several more years.

The combination of all three disciplines to assist in same-sex couples being able to conceive had been ground-breaking in its brilliance. It worked by transfiguring half of the genetic contributions to that belonging to the other gender – in essence, it either changed sperm into an egg or an egg into sperm – and charming a viable womb into one of the male bodies so that one partner was able to carry the child to term, and the entire process was bolstered by potions that would help create the hormonal environment necessary for a successful pregnancy and birth.

Generally, only the first step was necessary for two women who wished to conceive, as they already had the womb, but some also required the potions to bring their hormones back into the correct balance.

The process was even greatly helpful to those couples who were made up of partners of different genders who were having problems conceiving on their own, or those couples where the man wished to carry the child instead of the woman.

It was revolutionizing conception and birth in the magical world, and because Hermione was smart enough to have contacted the correct lawyers when she realized exactly what their process was going to do, they were making a killing off the proceeds of training medical personnel to properly use the transfiguration spells and charms, and on how to properly brew and apply the potions that made the whole thing work.

Feeling a sudden warmth on her shoulders, Minerva dropped her glasses back onto the book, leaning back to nuzzle her cheek against the hands that had begun to massage her tense muscles.

"Are you coming to bed anytime soon?"

"I think I shall. I've just realized that the triplets will be starting this September, and I'm seriously considering retiring before they do and foisting it all off on Marcus."

A soft chuckle sounded from behind her. "You know it's been too quiet around here since we all left. And as much as I love the idea of having more time with you all to myself, you'd drive both of us even crazier if you didn't have this school to keep in shape."

"Hmm, you could be right."

"Of course I'm right, and besides, Marcus is a perfectly lovely Deputy, but he's not ready to take your place. He's only been Deputy for three years since Filius and Pomona left."

The massaging fingers started digging into the tightest bundle of muscles she had, all knotted up at the base of her neck where it turned into her spine.

"Good gods, Minerva, you are far too tense. Leave the Registry for tomorrow and come let me relax you."

The knot notwithstanding, she was already beginning to turn into a puddle of goo at the tingling touch of her much-younger lover. "I still have so much to do."

"You don't really want to contemplate the fact that the Triplets are not only descended from Harry and James Potter, but are also closely related to Fred and George Weasley, do you?"

"Oh, Merlin help us all. The castle will be burnt to the ground by the time they're gone, and I'll have ripped out every strand of my hair."

"You'd better not. I love your hair far too much. Now you can do the Registry tomorrow. Come on, it's time you were in bed, old woman."

"Old, am I?" Her eyes opened, sparkling with mirth. "I'll show you old."

She jumped up, and gave chase to the giggling form making headway in dashing through the path up to their private rooms. Before stepping through the connecting door, she stopped and turned, a series of whispered words dimming the lights in her office, banking the fire, and getting the office ready to shut down for the night. Once she was satisfied that it was ready, she spun around on her heel and stepped through the door to their bedroom, reaching up to unfasten the top of her robes.

As her gaze reached the bed, she stopped, utterly incapable of moving. Even after thirteen years together, the sight of her lover's naked body as it reclined invitingly on their bed was enough to pull the breath from her lungs.

"You are so beautiful, my darling, darling girl."

Another whispered word banished her robes and the underlying clothes to the hamper, ready for the Elves to wash later. As she strode quickly toward the bed and her nightly prize, she pulled one pin from her hair, the rest following suit magically, allowing her hair to tumble down her back in a luxurious silken waterfall. The bit of grey at her temples didn't detract from her looks at all, if the look of lust in those sable eyes was any indication. Naked, she knelt at the edge of the bed and crawled over to settle her weight on top of the other woman's, nestling herself between spread thighs and laying her head across the softest pillows she'd ever felt.

She could both hear and feel the thumping of her lover's powerful heart as it beat underneath her ear, and long delicate fingers scraped and raked their way through her long hair, her eyes closing as the feeling of being home washed over her.

"Oh how I love you."

"And I love you. Always and forever."

Minerva moved upward, resting her weight on her forearms as she leaned down to capture Hermione's lips with her own in a tender but passionate kiss. After several minutes, Hermione broke the kiss off, pulling back and staring into liquid pools of green, the color of thick, plush grass, filled with patches of clover; the kind that invited you to sink into its cool depths as Spring was in full force.

"Minerva?"

"Yes, my darling?"

"I've been meaning to ask you something for a while now."

Minerva leaned up further, putting a bit more distance between their faces, searching the face she loved for clues. "Is now really the best time to bring it up?"

"I think it is." She reached around with one leg, wrapping it around Minerva's hip, holding her in place. "It's actually the optimal time, if your answer is what I think it will be."

"Oh, so this is a question you're asking me?" She lowered her head again, nuzzling her nose into the hollow at the base of Hermione's throat, knowing it was a sensitive area for her. She delighted when Hermione arched up from the contact, brushing their breasts together.

"Oh, gods. Don't do that. I need to ask you, Minerva. I'm serious."

"Ask away, my darling. I'm listening." She nuzzled into the spot again.

"Fine, fine. Oh, fuck that feels good. Okay, okay. So you know that Ron and Neville and I are doing really well with the…" Minerva refocused and moved down to lave and lap at one of Hermione's hardening nipples, causing a hiss to issue from her mouth mid-sentence. "…NNNNGGGG I'm trying to ask you something important, Minerva."

She stopped her ministrations long enough to reply, her voice silky smooth and full of seductive tones, "Were you? I thought you were talking about Ron and Neville." She returned her attentions to the other breast, nipping gently with the gentle movements of her tongue.

"Oh god. Dammit. That's …" Hermione stopped talking for a moment, trying to remember what she was even trying to talk _about_. "The conception charms. We're doing well with those."

"Oh, aye. That's because you're brilliant, darling." She moved her mouth again, trailing a line of soft, wet kisses down her collarbone to the hollow of her throat and then back up the other side, then returning in the other direction.

Hermione's head threw itself back, shoving the abused area further into Minerva's waiting mouth as her back arched slightly. "I was, oh god, Minerva, I was wondering if you'd be interested in … FUCK … using it. On me."

She felt bereft as the contact abruptly stopped, Minerva having pulled her head up to stare blankly into her face. "You want to …?"

Hermione's hands reached up, threading her fingers through the hair behind Minerva's ears as she cradled her head between them. "Yes. I want to have your baby. I want to have more than one of them, as a matter of fact. And that gives you ten years to get Marcus trained up, because you wouldn't want to still be here when our children start attending classes, and I know that means you'll have to stay for all seven of the Triplets' years, but you know it would be fun, and," she paused to suck in a much-needed breath, "aren't you a little tired of just being 'Headmistress McGonagall' and 'Auntie Merva' and ready to be 'Mum' instead?" She finally ended her ramble, watching Minerva's face carefully for her honest reaction.

"I… Hermione, I can't…" Tears began building behind her eyes, and she blinked them away, not seeing as they fell onto Hermione's cheeks and rolled off into the thick chestnut curls below.

"You don't want to then." Answering tears were showing up, mingling with those dripping from Minerva's eyes as they all disappeared, soaking into her hair.

"No! That's not what I meant. I was going to say I can't think of anything I'd like more. At my age, I didn't think I'd ever get this chance, my darling girl, and I couldn't possibly have ever done it with anyone else, because you are my heart and my soul and my everything." The beaming smile at her answer was enough to convince her that she was making the right choice with her next words. "But Hermione, one thing I must insist upon if we are going to start a family together is that you simply must marry me first."

"Yes. Yes. YES. Only, can we do it quickly? I don't want to wait one extra minute to be your pregnant wife and get started on … what do you say, three children?"

"As many as you want. And I'd marry you tomorrow if it were possible, but as it's not, I suppose next week will do."

"Perfect. Now, if you don't mind, I have a beautifully naked fiancée waiting on my attentions. Do you think you could let me get back to her?"

"I think that can be arranged."

Minerva lowered her face and their lips met in a searing kiss. They got in plenty of practice that night for the process of making a baby.

=======================HG/MM=======================

As these things happen, nothing happened according to their plans. It took a month before they could marry, and even with the new conception process, it was another two months before Hermione got pregnant, which was handy, as she gave birth just one week after the next year's summer holidays began. They named their first son Alexander Malcolm McGonagall, and from the first minute he came out, red and wrinkled and screaming to high heaven, he had both of his mothers wrapped around his tiny finger.

The antics of the new generation of Marauders were nearly as bad as Minerva's worst fears had been, although they never did manage to burn the castle down, and she kept her hair at Hermione's strict command. By the time the Potter Triplets left, they had wrangled up a whole group to join the "Modern Marauders" as they called themselves. Gareth Ollivander had managed to escape their group, but both of his twin brothers had quickly joined up when they came to Hogwarts two years later, as did many of their numerous Weasley cousins, and much to his father's chagrin, Scorpius Malfoy was sorted to Gryffindor with the Triplets and they became inseparable, eventually forming a romantic attachment with Remus Potter.

But as it turns out, Minerva didn't retire when it came time for little Alex to start his classes (both his Mum and Mama were pleased to see him sorted to Ravenclaw), nor did she retire when his sister Isobel came three years after and was sorted to Slytherin. She even managed to hang on to her position when their youngest two were both sorted to Hufflepuff, having started a year apart, but were so alike that many assumed they were twins.

She did have to make many changes to the school in her tenure as Headmistress. When the formerly disused dormitories and classrooms had been pressed into use, she'd had to bring in extra staff, assigning two – or sometimes three – instructors for each course, and making them work together so that all students had the same curriculum, no matter which Professor taught the class.

Finally, the last of the war's boom babies had come and gone, and the school was running like clockwork. After forty-two years in the Headmistress position, Minerva finally retired at the ripe old age of one-hundred-fifteen when Hermione reached her sixtieth year. More of her lustrous black hair had faded to a steel-grey, but it was still generously peppered by her original color, and her eyes had lost none of their intensity.

She and Hermione shared many more years together, thanks to the Wizarding aging phenomenon, and watched fondly as the children they had helped to educate over the years went on to their successes … and to their failures at times. Their own children grew up completely loved, and went on to find the same kind of love for themselves that their mothers had found so many years earlier.

They had good times, and they had bad times, but through it all, they had love. Through their final days, whatever else they did or didn't have, they always had love.

=======================HG/MM=======================

This was a little bit of fluff that came about because of a Tumblr post that was then shared as an image on Facebook. It read as follows:

_Harry and Ginny having triplet boys and naming them James, Sirius, and Remus respectively._

_And McGonagall's reaction when they're at Hogwarts like_

_No_

_No not again_

There were some other interesting ideas in the comments, such as "When she realized they'd be related to the Weasley Twins, that's when she decided to retire." Or "Third Generation of Marauders… I QUIT!" or my personal favorite, though I didn't use it here was, "That would be her Boggart; the Weasley Twins flanked by the Marauders telling her they're never leaving Hogwarts."

Obviously, I had to make it Hermione/Minerva because can I make anything else lately? Absolutely not. And I like the little idea of Neville/Ron being thrown in because it's an odd ship you don't see often, (or at least I don't. I don't know about the rest of you.) and I like to throw in the really strange ones, like my allusion to Scorpius Malfoy and Remus Potter.

I really didn't _need_ to write something else right now, as I'm in the middle of three different works in progress, one of which is taking precedence over the rest in a really horrible way, but I don't know. I was reading over the prompt and saw the story unfolding. I couldn't help but write it down.

Thank you to Refreshingly-Original for posting the prompt and to those whose ideas made me laugh.

I hope you all enjoyed it.


End file.
